Lost in Harry Potter
by 80sarcades
Summary: Harry Potter brings down the Dark Lord, defeats the Death Eaters, brings peace to the Wizarding World, and, more importantly, gets the girl of his dreams. Just one slight problem: Harry wasn't the one that did it...
1. The Train, Plus a Malfoy

**Lost in Harry Potter  
****by 80sarcades**

* * *

WARNING: Not to be read by people that do not appreciate sarcasm, or meddling with canon. Besides, its fun to do both of those at the same time! This is actually an old story from several years ago that I did for practice and never posted; somehow it grew to 16+ pages of silliness. Slight crossover with the TV show _Lost_, but not strictly a _HP/Lost_ crossover.

Keep in mind that the measures I used to end the Second War were a bit brutal; however, so is war. The scene with Ginny is Harry/Ginny from her viewpoint; personally, I don't fancy teenagers at all.

Disclaimer: Does anyone actually believe that I own Harry Potter?

_**Chapter One: The Train, Plus a Malfoy**_

For once, I'm at a loss for words. Just where the hell am I?

The steel deck vibrated beneath my feet as I stared into a shiny mirror. A small window let me look outside; the countryside sped by underneath the morning sunshine. Instead of my usual shirt and pants I wore a fancy bathrobe with a patch on it.

All of that I didn't really care about at the moment. Just the reflection of the kid in the mirror was giving me the shakes, because I recognized him instantly. Who wouldn't?

It was none other than Harry Potter. Plus the lightning bolt.

I touched the scar on my/his head and saw the kid's hand do the same thing. Instead of the my usual smooth skin, I felt a raised line beneath my fingers. I quickly felt around and felt only a scrawny body instead of my usual bulk. Even my hands felt different; without thinking, I pulled a polished stick out of a pocket. I watched the kid mirror my movements as I waved the wand around.

Panic gave way to curiosity as I tried a simple spell for fun. After all, this has to be a dream, right? I pointed the wand at the bar of soap on the sink and said "Wingardium Leviosa."

Nothing happened. I began to think it was all some sort of horrible joke and laughed, saying the phrase again. This time, I casually flicked the tip of the wooden shaft.

The laughter died in my throat as I saw the soap rise in the air. I reached out and put my hand around it; no wires. I was about to try again when I saw a nearby newspaper on the floor. Nothing unusual about that, except that the picture on the front page was moving.

You know, Quantum Leap was my favorite show when I was growing up. Sam Beckett would 'leap' into someone's life and say, "Oh, Boy." Of course, in real life, you say something else:

In my case, it was a bit more direct: _Oh, shit!_

* * *

The train was still clattering along as I left the bathroom. Loo. Whatever. To my right, I could see compartment doors stretching down the length of the car. More sunlight flowed through the windows opposite them; it does nothing for my massive headache. Where's an Advil when you need one?

For a long moment I stood there, confused. Where the hell do I go from here?

You know, I wish I could remember how I got here. Or being smashed enough to get here. But I don't even have a hangover. Well, damn!

For the hell of it, I was about to go to my right when the door on my left opened. A tall, thin, blonde hair boy entered followed by two stocky boys. Blondie stopped when he saw me/Harry; a sneer crossed his lips. Even his voice had a nasty tone to it when he spoke.

"Well, Potter, still running around telling fairytales? Or are you just finally going mental?"

You know, I might be in someone else's body and in someone else's country. But I'll be damned if I lose my sarcasm. Blondie gave me a hard look when I said nothing.

"What about it, Potter? Got nothing to say?" He laughed. A second later, the other boys laughed. Jeez, Draco Malfoy really is a dick. Let's see if I can cut it down to size. Him, I mean. For the other, I'd need tweezers.

"Well," I finally drawled, "actually, I do. I just don't have anything to say to you. May I offer some advice?" I said, changing the subject.

For the first time, the boy seemed surprised. "And what would that be?" he demanded, curious. I fixed him with a hard stare before I replied.

"When you go through life, don't act like a jackass. Overcompensating for lack of equipment will get you nowhere."

For a second, Draco looked confused. Then his wand was in his hand, pointed directly at my head. On the good side, however, anger does really color his pale cheeks.

"Take that back, Potter," he threatened, "unless you want to end up like your parents." I yawned casually; it just seemed to infuriate him further.

"You know, then you'll have something in common with them," I calmly said.

"What?" There was a strange glint in Draco's eye. Reminds me of a cat waiting to pounce.

"Floor."

I could see the unasked question in his eyes even as my left hook slammed into his jaw, causing him to fall back into his overweight friends before slumping to the floor, unconscious. Looking up, I grinned evilly at his two companions and raised my hand in a 'come on' gesture.

"Who's next?" I said, smiling.

They ran. Just goes to show, take out the leader and the rest will run. Draco stirred at my feet, trying to get up. I knocked him in the head again and he fell back into unconsciousness. Punk. I toy with the idea of throwing him off the train, but reject it. Damn littering laws.

This, of course, brings be back to my original problem. Clearly, this is not a dream; my hand hurts too much for that. Lacking alternatives to simple logic, I have to quickly conclude that this is reality. I really am Harry Potter, somehow. The bigger question is: how do I get back to my old life?

More importantly, do I really want to? I've put up with enough customers in retail hell this week, and I really need to get away from it all. Or at least drunk. Which probably explains why I'm here, although I really don't want to think about that too much: my head still hurts.

Well, if I am in hell, let's see if we can have some fun. I've always thought some improvements could be made to the _Harry Potter _series. Just a bit of tweaking, you know. So why do I feel like doing my evil laughter bit? From what Draco said, I'm guessing I'm in the summer after Book Four, _Goblet of Fire._ So lets start from there, shall we?

I turned around and walked down the corridor. Along the way, I started humming an old tune.

To dream, the impossible dream….

Somehow, it seemed appropriate.

* * *

It didn't take long before I found what I was looking for. Honestly, how many compartments on this train have people with red hair sitting across from bushy hair? They were talking about something when I came in. Although we said the usual pleasantries, they kept on yakking away while I sat there quietly. Truth be told, I needed the quiet.

Now that being Harry Potter had sunk in, I realized that I would have to *act* like Harry Potter. You know, be daring but cautious. With courage, but with reservation. To have a nobility complex, yet not think.

Screw that.

If I'm really Harry, I might as well go for the shock value. Be the 'Bad Boy Wizard.' At least I'd be front page material for Witch Weekly for the next century or so.

The door slid open. Half expecting to see Draco again, I looked up into Ginny Weasley's eyes as she entered the compartment. She just looked, well, beautiful with her red hair. Hell, forget beautiful. Think radiant; the movies certainly did her no justice. Guess the Boy-Who-Lived is really the idiot of the century if he lets that rosy beauty get away.

So lets have fun with it.

"Ginny?" I asked.

She looked at me. The conversation behind me stopped when I got down on one knee. Might as well go for the full Monty on this one.

"Will you marry me?"

Her jaw dropped. Really, she's quite cute the way her mouth opens and closes. I stand up and pull her close, inhaling some kind of pleasant perfume. Eau de Witch, maybe? Then again, who cares; it smells pretty good. I ignore the sounds of her brother preparing to lynch me and press on.

"Of course, I don't mean right now, my love, but later. I just want you to consider it. The offer's open, whenever you want to take me up on it."

I lean in closer. Wonder what everyone is thinking right now? I know Ron's not thinking, or he would have told me to get off his sister. It's easy to tell what Ginny is thinking when I look into her eyes: Christmas has come early. Way early. Now for the dramatic finish.

"I love you, Ginny Weasley." I said simply. With that, I leaned in close and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, only to find it forcefully -- and passionately -- returned. She eventually broke off before looking into my/Harry's eyes. "I love you too, Harry," she said quietly, a smile on her lips. "Took you long enough, you prat."

Harry, wherever he is, better appreciate this. The things I do for people…

Ginny's eyes, meanwhile, glanced over my shoulder as she slowly returned to reality. "For Merlin's sake, Ron, pull your eyes back in your head and straighten up," she said in a firm tone, mimicking her mom. Even without looking, I can hear Ron doing as she ordered. I idly wonder if Herminone's open jaw is still catching flies.

"See you, Harry," Ginny giggled before leaving the compartment. She looked back at me, smile on her face, before she disappeared. Why not? I guess I made her fantasy come true. You know, shining knight on a white horse, and all that.

I ignored the stares, questions, and threats, pausing only to smile. Why ruin a good moment?

At least I remembered to give the twins the bag of money. Fred and George seem like such charming chaps, you know. So why do I have this pressing need to check my pockets?

[fin/ende]

_Next: Chateau Dursley_


	2. Chateau Dursley

**Lost in Harry Potter  
****by 80sarcades  
**

* * *

Disclaimer: Does anyone actually believe that I own Harry Potter?

_**Chapter 2: Chateau Dursley**_

All too soon the train pulled into Kings Cross and I joined the rest of the redheads trying to find Molly Weasley. Personally, I think she's one of the underrated characters in the series. It's one thing to *fight* a war, but something completely different to *worry* about your loved ones in that war.

Of course, I am on my best manners when she pops up. Unfortunately, the good times end when the Dursleys show up. If looks could kill, Molly would be up for life. Of course, I would have to testify that she acted in self defense. She feared for her life, your honor, I would say. Just ignore the multiple stab wounds. And the tire marks.

About thirty minutes later I'm stuffed in a car with Vernon, Petuina, and Dudley. The trunk, as big as it is, fit in the boot. How these tubs of lard avoid breaking the axles is a mystery. Vernon, as usual, is in a good mood. If you're into S&M, that is.

I lost count at how many times I hear 'boy', 'ungrateful brat', and 'freak'. How Harry puts up with this crap is beyond me.

But then again, I'm not Harry, am I?

True to form, the larger than life family leave me alone to lug this heavy trunk into the house. I put it in the dingy barred room that looks even worse than described in the book. Heading downstairs, I ran into Vernon.

"Going somewhere, boy?" he sneered. That mustache really does make him look evil. I just smiled.

"Yup, sure am." My voice was chipper even though I really should be depressed. Then again, if I lived here I'd be on Prozac 24/7. "Thought I'd come downstairs. See what's on the telly. You know, that kind of thing."

"You'll do no such thing, boy!" Vernon thundered. "Get back to your room. I don't want to see you or your freak things until tomorrow. You--"

That was as far as he got before my right foot kicked him in the crotch. Honestly, who would have thought he had a pair? His face turned purple as he sunk to his knees, gasping for breath. Red wasn't his color, anyway.

"You know, you really shouldn't have a nasty attitude, you know," I said casually. "Shortens your life."

He had just managed to stagger to his feet before my right fist buried itself in his stomach, sending him back down to his knees for an encore performance. Honestly, I was surprised to get my hand back. I heard Petuina and Dudley come in and gasp, but otherwise they just stood there and watched as their nephew went mental.

"Now listen here, maggot," I said in a quiet voice; I can be menacing when I have to be, even if I am a teenager now. "I've had it. I've had enough of you, your family, and this house. Which is why, you sack of slime, I'm going to make you a deal. Unless you want to go for another round?"

Vernon looked up in my general direction and reluctantly shook his head. Surprise, Surprise. He is reasonable after all. Let's go for what he really lusts after. Besides the secretary at his office. Definitely don't need that mental image, thank you.

"How'd you like to make some quid?" I ask.

Of course, his head snaps up at that. Who wouldn't want more money? I continue my explanation.

"Pay attention and you just might make some. Now, are you aware there are people watching the house? I doubt you've heard of them, but they're called the Order of the Phoenix."

He shakes his head. Guess he doesn't want to get hit again. Dammit.

"Here's the deal. With your help, I'm going to slip past them with my trunk and everything else. You'll never have to see me again. How's that?"

"What's the catch?" he said, in a soft voice. I can see him eyeing my closed fist.

"The catch is…you'll have to pretend I'm here. Do it for three days, and you'll get three thousand. As in pounds. Do it seven days, seven thousand pounds. I'm sure you can do enough simple math to see where this is going."

Some of the confidence returned to Vernon's face. I can see him thinking that this is all a joke, that I don't have any money and he's going to be able to whip me. Fat chance. Shame he was still on his knees, since my foot easily knocked him back onto his fat butt. I stood over him and felt around in my pockets before taking out Harry's moneybag. My fingers reached into the bag and pulled out a Galleon, holding it up to the light before I tossed it to him. Surprisingly, it landed quietly on his shirt pocket.

Vernon picked it up with a shaking hand. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the coin; meanwhile, I continued to do my bit.

"That, my dear uncle, is a Galleon. Gold Galleon, to be exact. My parents left me a whole room full of them. That doesn't count the main inheritance, either."

Anger quickly filled Vernon's eyes. Ah, yes. Money.

"All this time…" His voice raised up to its normal tone. Loud and Proud.

"All this time, you've been keeping this from us. And after all the money we spent on you." Vernon's voice thundered through the house as rage filled his eyes. "You ungrateful little son of a bi--"

I kicked him in the stomach. Hard. He rolled onto his side, coughing in fits, as I kneeled down next to him. Surprising how one's voice turns cold in situations like these.

"Watch your mouth, you bastard. So…where were we?" I calmly asked. Petuina and Dudley, meanwhile, aren't moving a muscle. I have to wonder if they're enjoying it or they want to know more about the money. Who knows?

"If you had ever known about the money, I would never have seen a dime of it. You would have spent it all on fat boy here," I said, lazily waving a hand towards Dudley. "But, like I said, this is your chance to make some money. The longer they don't find out, the more you get. I'll even make this easy for you and have the goblins wire it to your local bank."

Vernon's eyes bulged when I mentioned goblins, but he said nothing.

"I'll even throw in an extra thou. For old time's sake. Do we have a deal?"

For a long moment, Harry's uncle looked at me. Anger, greed, and rage were floating behind those fat little eyeballs of his. Greed, predictably, won out and he nodded.

"Fine, then," I said, smiling. "Here's how were going to do it…"

[fin/ende]

_Next: Of Goblins, Cauldrons, and Plans_


	3. Of Goblins, Cauldrons, and Plans

**Lost in Harry Potter  
by 80sarcades  
**

* * *

Disclaimer: Does anyone actually believe that I own Harry Potter?

_**Chapter 3: Of Goblins, Cauldrons, and Plans**_

That night, I was in a comfortable bed at the Leaky Cauldron. The room needed a little cleaning, but who cared? It beat staying at Chateau Dursley; at least I can get room service here.

Vernon, true to his word, drove me out of the garage while I hid in the backseat. He didn't say a word to me as he let me and my trunk off at a nearby park. After he drove off, I raised my wand to call for the Knight Bus.

Fortunately, with a little bit of luck no one really recognized me beyond Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron. Which was really good, since I needed a disguise.

What I actually needed was a good charm. The next morning, I sent Hedwig off to get one. A book, actually. It took about 15 tries before I was able to grow my hair long enough to cover the scar and change my appearance. I have this strong urge to shave it all off and be done with it; I really don't know how women put up with long hair, especially when it's hot.

After a bit of breakfast, I was out in Diagon Alley heading for my next destination: Gringotts. They were integral to my plan to end Harry's war. When I say 'plan' it's on the order of Doctor Who: crazy, but brilliant. Well, crazy anyway.

The Goblins, true to form, were cranky, didn't say much, and looked nasty. My kind of people. I managed to convince the teller that I needed to see someone in charge of the Potter account, and I was ushered in to see another irritated goblin. This one, however, managed to smile. You know, the kind of smile Hitler's Gestapo got when they got a fresh victim.

"I'm Silclaw, Mr. Potter," the goblin rasped. "How can I help you?" At least this chap sounded polite; I took the offered seat before he sat down.

"Well, I have a little problem you may be able to fix. You are in charge of my family's accounts, right?" I asked.

"Of course." The he/she/it/whatever smiled even more. Just how much of a cut is he getting, anyway? Ah, who cares. It's not mine, damn it. I listened as he continued.

"However, the main family accounts will not be available until you turn seventeen. Until then, Gringotts manages the investments in accordance with your parent's will," Silclaw explained.

"Ok. However, I do have another question to ask, Guardian of my Vaults."(1)

Silclaw puffed up his chest and stood at attention in his chair, looking excited as hell. You'd think he'd just been promoted or was on drugs. To be fair, I heard that title in another Harry Potter story. Couldn't resist using it.

"I'm sure you have the discretion to use the funds for certain purposes?"

"Yes," Silclaw acknowledged readily. "However, it is for very limited purposes. What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I'm sure that you've heard that some wizards are back in town," I said offhandedly.

A dark look quickly passed over Silclaw's face. "We have…heard…that fact," he said in a hard voice.

Interesting. He used the word 'fact' instead of 'rumor.' Suggests they're smarter than the Ministry of Magic. But then again, who isn't?

"Oh, it's true," I said, a bit flippantly. "You might have also heard that the head wizard is back also."

The goblin nodded, still curious.

"You might also remember that they don't like me very much. Except as target practice," I said.

"What is your point?" Silclaw asked curtly, not wanting to waste time.

I told him. Plain and simple, what I wanted done. I wished I had a camera for the gobsmacked expression on his face. Funny as hell.

It took him a moment before he could speak. "You are aware that would take a…significant…portion of your family's fortune?" he stuttered.

"Yup. It can be done, though? In the interests of…security?" I let the last word hang.

For a moment, Silclaw paused while I studied the emotions on his face. Naturally, greed won out. Relatives and goblins are so predictable.

"I will have to take it to the council, but…in the interest of the last Potter heir, and one of our largest depositors…" He let the statement hang. "I don't see a problem. Now, as to the details of the contract…"

Twenty minutes later, Silclaw was holding a signed contract in his clawed hand even as he grinned like a reelected politician. He promised to owl me before anything was done.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Potter?" he asked. Funny, how people will smile when they take your money. Almost like they're laughing at you…

"Ah, yes sir, just one more thing," I said, doing my best Colombo impression. "You know what a Horcrux is?"

From the look on his face, I knew I had just struck oil.

At least he wasn't smiling anymore.

* * *

Two hours later, I left Gringotts.

Thanks to some arm twisting by Silclaw, I now had a full set of papers for one Harry James. Like everywhere else, my driving licence photo sucks, even if has Harry's picture on it. In the wallet, also, was a Gringotts credit card and banknotes; it was time to have some fun.

I collected my things from the Leaky Cauldron and headed into the Muggle world for the most expensive hotel I could find. You know, the one that has the good massage and room services. Plus the classy call girls in the bar.

Even with the new documents, the desk clerk at the Regency gave me his best 'screw off' stare that ended quickly after I threw three 100 pound notes on the desk as a tip. Several minutes later I was in a nice plush suite taking a shower. When I called room service a bit later to order some dinner and wine, I wondered how the Dursleys were doing. Naturally, being a decent guy, I had held up my end of the deal while I was at the bank.

Vernon answered, and for once he remained civil. Yes, he had gotten the money. Yes, the Order of the Fried Chicken was still watching the house; he had seen strangely dressed 'freaks' around. Yes, he would keep up 'appearances.' I thanked him and hung up. Never hurts to be polite, even if I am paying the bastard. I idly wonder if Petunia will do him in once the money flow stops. Hmmm…

The next morning, after a peaceful night's sleep, I received a letter from the goblins informing me that my request had been approved; they would owl me when they were ready. Between that and the other surprise I have planned, it would take about a month before me and Voldie could have fun. Cool, especially since everyone will think I'm 'safe' at the Dursleys. I sat there the rest of the day and watched TV while keeping the kitchen busy. You'd think that with satellite TV there would actually be something on. But no….

All I could do was wait. And get lucky.

* * *

The days just seemed to blur by until the second letter from the Goblins arrived. Dear God, has it really been a month? I sent their owl back with an acknowledgement; they would deliver the 'presents' that morning to Lord Voldermort's doorstep. Plus my note; can't forget that!

After a lot of sightseeing, fine liquor, and numerous hookers it was time. Wow, you can really have fun spending someone else's money. Hopefully the call girls didn't give anything back. Contagious, that is.

The second part of my plan was already in place. Fred and George are, for lack of a better word, brilliant; they came through in fine style while keeping our correspondence secret. It took them less than a week to deliver the object now in my possession. Now all I have to do is hope Voldie comes through on his end -- which he should -- and then we'll have some fun!

Somehow, I found my clothes in the middle of all this mess before I went downstairs to enjoy a delicious breakfast. As I dipped my fork into the tasty eggs, I wondered what kind of day his Darkness was having?

**Meanwhile, in the Southeast…**

Lord Voldermort, the most feared Dark Lord since Grindelwald, was having a very bad day.

And it wasn't from listening to Peter Pettigrew's reedy voice either.

[fin/ende]

A/N: (1) I really don't remember where this term came from, other than it was in HP fan fiction; my apologies to the author who originally coined it.

_Next: Showdown, Part One_


	4. Showdown, Part One

**Lost in Harry Potter  
****by 80sarcades**

* * *

A/N: Thank you for the reviews, alerts, and favorite story posts…they do make my day! I welcome more reviews, both good and bad; I'd like to hear what you think about it. Keep in mind that in this story I'm playing the role of Harry Potter and do not see my role as vengeance; instead, its taking the wrongs that happened and putting them right again. If the price of keeping the peace and Sirius Black alive is the demise of Voldermort and his merry henchmen, then so be it. I did say it would be brutal.

Rest assured, however; J.K. Rowling will be around in the next installment to deal with me…

Disclaimer: Does anyone actually believe that I own Harry Potter?

* * *

_**Chapter 4: Showdown, Part One**_

Some time later that morning, I reentered the magical world; I do have an appointment to keep. After stopping by Flourish & Blotts, I continued on my merry way through Diagon Alley. Hopefully, the Goblins got everything right. Should know soon enough, since I did tell the Dark Loser the time. If he has a watch, that is.

After waiting several more hours, I decided to give up. Which was probably a good thing, since I had nearly made it to the entrance at the Leaky Cauldron when I heard…

"POTTER!"

The verbal blast shattered a number of windows as a 20 foot tall vision of Voldermort appeared in the street in front of Flourish and Blotts. God, even a see through image of the Dark Tosser is ugly as hell.

I walked up to the image of His Ugliness and looked him straight in the eye. At least, I'm assuming red slits qualify as eyes. Meanwhile, everyone is giving me space by backing up or just outright running away. Even the Aurors -- the elite magical police! -- are retreating, and their hands are vibrating in fear. I have to hand it to the Dark Ugly, though: if he appeared in the flesh, everyone in the street would probably faint, collapse, and die. Pathetic.

"What can I do for you, Tom?" I said in a cheery voice. Let's see if I can channel an actor for my performance. How about the three greatest names in acting history: Richard. Dean. Anderson. Oh, yeah…

"Explain this, you impudent little brat," Voldermort spat, holding up a object. After a moment, I recognize the face of Bellatrix Black. More accurately, her severed head.

"Well," I said casually, "it's nice to see that you're getting some head, Tom, but really, don't you think she needs plastic surgery? And a body?"

Voldermort's face grew pale with rage as he tossed the head off camera. Before he could speak, I beat him to it.

"Were the heads gift wrapped, Tom? You know, I told them to use black ribbon, seeing as you got this dark thing going on, but--"

Voldermort interrupted with a loud hiss. I really hate that. You'd think that with all the trouble the goblins went through to decapitate the Death Eaters -- topping them off with the ribbons and the gift boxes; I thought that was a nice touch -- he'd be more appreciative, but no…

"SILENCE!," the Dark Lord yelled. "You have taken the lives of my servants, boy! You--" While he ranted, I quickly touched the tip of my wand to my throat and muttered 'sonorus' before speaking. Loudly.

"VOLDERMORT, SHUT UP!" I thundered, breaking some more windows as well as knocking down signs here and there. Awesome. Note to self: Never shout while using a voice amplification charm; tends to really break things. Fun, though.

I don't know who is more stunned: the crowd, still clutching their ears, or Voldermort. I wonder when was the last time someone told him to shut up? Certainly not after he mastered the Cruciatus curse, for sure. I canceled the charm and spoke in a normal tone.

"First, don't interrupt. Really bad manners, you know," I said, enjoying the shocked look on his face before I continued.

"I know that whacking your Death Eater buddies might seem like a bad thing, but you should look on the bright side. I mean, they were all pretty ugly anyway, probably couldn't get dates, and it'll improve the gene pool. Besides which, how long would they had sucked up to you anyway? You know, being a half blood and all?"

Oh, yeah. That did it.

"Half-blood, Potter? I will have you know that I am a direct descendent of the noble line of Salazar Slytherin…"

Voldermort continued on his rant, telling me about his destiny, what he would do to my various body parts, and so on. I ignored him and stretched while yawning. Loudly. Finally, his Darkness finished and I looked back at him.

"Sorry, your Highness. I was stretching. You know, lack of sleep and all. What'd I miss?"

If nothing else, anger seems to bring the pink to Voldermort's cheeks. Makes him almost look human. He was about to start again before I pulled out my umbrella, causing him to eye it curiously.

"Besides which, I don't really have to worry about you anymore. Pretty soon, you'll be dead," I casually commented. "With this little baby." I waved it around to show him and the crowd.

Voldermort laughed. Geez, even a happy laugh from him sounds evil. Have to remember it for Halloween.

"With a brolly, Potter? Perhaps you have finally lost your mind," he snorted. "Still, however, it will mean no mercy for you, when you meet my justice."

"Justice?" I had to laugh. Loudly. "No, this is justice, Voldie baby. Pretty soon, you'll know it." I hoped my guess was right as I pointed the umbrella towards him…

…only to have it wrenched out of my hand to sail towards Voldermort's image, where it disappeared in a flash of light. Portkey, I do believe, and right on time. Sure enough, the umbrella appeared in the Dark Lord's hand, larger than life. Voldieboy examined his new prize.

"I was going to save the portkey for you, Potter," Voldermort lazily drawled, "but this…this is more important. Perhaps, when I have solved its secrets, you will finally know the power I am truly capable of."

"You asshole!" I hissed. "You ended that sentence with a preposition!(2) You have no idea what you done!"

"I think not, Potter." The Dark Lord actually seemed amused. "How does this work?" He fiddled with the handle, obviously not used to muggle stuff. Meanwhile, the wizards and witches continued to look on, probably wondering if we had both flipped our lids.

"It won't matter, Tom," I said with confidence. "I still have the scientist who made it. Before long, Doctor Wile Coyote will make another one before you can learn its secrets. So prepare to die, Tommy boy."

I could hear a snicker behind me, obviously from one of the muggleborns. Ignorance does have its uses, you know. Especially when it comes to purebloods.

"Even in your arrogance, Potter, you let slip the name of your helper. Pathetic," he sneered. "Rest assured, I will find this Doctor Coyote and use him more…efficiently." Behind me, I hear more soft giggling and whispering. Someone has been watching their _Looney Tunes_, at least. Good for them.

"Good luck trying to find him. You never will!" I boastfully said as Voldermort fiddled with the release, convinced that he had the Holy Grail of magic. As his fingers finally found the catch, I raised my voice.

"I really wouldn't do that, you know," I said warningly. Too late.

The umbrella snapped open.

* * *

Meanwhile, high above the planet Earth….

Thousands of televisions went to static as Skynet 4F, a communications satellite parked above the United Kingdom, was suddenly pulled out of its orbit. (3)

Naturally, it took a few minutes it took to reroute the signals to another satellite. In the meantime, people panicked at the thought of not being able to watch the telly and find out what was happening to their favorite actors. They…God forbid…might actually have to talk to someone else.

A conversation! With other people!

The programmes returned suddenly; the crisis was averted.

* * *

"You have lost, Harry Potter."

Voldermort looked down at me and sneered yet again. Which was pretty impressive for someone without a nose.

I took a small ball out of my pocket and watched the color change from blue to red. Not long now.

"Don't think so, snakehead," I said. Jeez, his eyes really do flash red when he's pissed. "You know, you really shouldn't have opened the umbrella."

"And why not?" Again, he smirks. Not for long. "I will solve the secrets of this umbrella, and then I will come for you, Harry. It's only a matter of time.

"Fine choice of words. You know, if you really want to know how to work that umbrella, you should really put it over your head," I said.

"Why?" he asked, curious.

A dry laugh escaped my lips before I opened them again. "Well, I figure in about fifteen seconds a big old Muggle satellite will fall on your head, so that will give you just enough time to kiss your ass goodbye."

Damn. Two looks of shock on his face in one day. Wish I had a camera. He recovers quick, though. Have to give him that.

"What nonsense are you talking about, Potter?" Voldermort demanded. At this point, the Dark Lord persona is in full force. Ugh. People suck up to this?

I looked at the ball; it was blinking rapidly. Ten seconds. Time for the closing finish.

"Oh, and My Lord…" I commented sarcastically, "the Goblins have canceled your Horcrux life insurance polices on the grounds of being an asshole. All seven of them.(4) Thought you'd want to know."

Three looks of shock. Must be a record somewhere.

Voldermort turns to flee but not before I see the ceiling explode above him. His Ugliness vanishes under a lot of rubble as the viewer winks out.

Meanwhile, all the Wizards and Witches behind me are wondering: Did we just see the Dark Lord die? At the hands of Harry Potter?

Of course, I'm wondering where I can get some popcorn and butter. Especially the butter.

Damn magical world.

* * *

The celebration is short lived as Harry's name is once again shouted out in a yell:

"POTTER!"

The crowd parts to reveal Lucius Malfoy complete with his badass cane. Ah, hah! So he gave Voldermort -- excuse me, the late Voldermort -- my umbrella. If he wasn't ugly enough, I'd kiss him. Now that's a revolting thought!

Then again, I should really request a refund from the goblins; his name was first on the list to be whacked. Obviously, someone screwed up.

During all this he stood there, eyes narrowing, waiting for me to say something. Ok, I'll bite.

"What do you want, Malfoy? And be quick about it. I have to go wash out my socks." I said.

"Potter, I formally challenge you to a duel of family honor. Wands or swords, of course. Choose your weapon."

Say what?

"Duel of family honor? What the hell are you talking about? Voldermort wasn't even part of your family," I said, confused.

"Regardless, the challenge has been made," Lucius said in a cold tone. "Are you going to defend your family's honor, Potter? Or do you wish to forfeit your magic?" As he stands there, I can hear muttering from the crowd but no one tells Malfoy to shove off. Or at least hit him with a stunner. Cowards.

Ok, no way am I going to back down. Besides which, if I said 'go to hell' and walked away he'd probably just shoot me in the back. So I do the noble bit and stand my ground.

"In that case, I accept. Do we draw wands at dawn?" I dryly asked.

"No, Potter, right here should be sufficient. Since you are a bit…ignorant," he said, enunciating the last word, "on wizarding customs, I will tell you this: the Aurors, according to law, will not interfere. Before or after the fact," he drawled.

He's right. Of course, he's right. The Aurors, along with everyone else, are just standing there waiting for something to happen. I'm tempted to jump at them and yell 'boo' but I've got better things to do than watch people shake, rattle, and roll from fear. I look back at Lucius.

"So I can kick your ass and I can't get hauled to court for assault. Ok, that works for me," I said. "So now what?"

"First, of course, we bow. You do remember how to bow, don't you Potter?" Malfoy said lazily, enjoying the moment.

I'm sure that Harry remembers the proper way to bow. I'm also sure that if Blondie was a bit closer, I could kick him in the face when we did so and end this farce. Well, I thought it was cool when James Bond did it in _The Man with the Golden Gun_. Unfortunately, I don't think I can do a twenty foot kick. So, I bow and keep one eye on Malfoy. Pity such nice robes are wasted on a loser.

"Now, Potter…draw," he ordered. "As the challenged, you get the first spell. Do try to make it a good one, boy. I don't think Expelliarmus will work this time." Chuckling, Malfoy took out his own wand, pointing it towards the ground. Under normal circumstances, I don't have a chance.

Under normal circumstances, that is. On the other hand, I do have one last surprise left. And I do so enjoy getting in the last word. "Um, excuse me Mr. Malfoy, I do have a question about the whole 'duel for honor' bit."

If anything, Lucius looked amused. I'd bet ten galleons that he's wondering if I'm going to ask some stupid question, or beg for my life. Ah, well…

"You know, I'm still a bit confused. Was snakehead some distant relation or were you two getting it on? Because you could really do better, you know?"

It took him a good fifteen seconds to work out the 'getting on' part but when he did his face was red with rage. Meanwhile, I kept my mouth running.

"…hey, look at the advantages. At least when he was around you didn't need a nightlight, not with those red eyes…

"POTTER!" Malfoy screamed.

Despite the circumstances, I have to smirk. Oh, yeah. He's pretty pissed off now.

"Draw. Your. Wand," Malfoy ground out through gritted teeth. "Or forfeit your magic."

I shrugged my shoulders before plunging my hand into my robes, grabbing my wand even as Malfoy threw up a Protego charm. I brought it out with my right hand and took aim before I fired.

The .45 slug from the pistol I held passed neatly though his shield and slammed into Malfoy's chest, sending a small puff of blood into the air. Normally, bullets wouldn't even touch a wizard with a shield charm. Unless, of course, the friendly folks in Knockturn Alley charmed the bullet first. Meanwhile, Lucius gave me a stunned look before falling, face first, onto the ground. Which seems appropriate, since he'll join his master in hell.

Shame electronics won't work with magic, or I'd package the shocked looks Malfoy and the Dark Loser had given me and sell them as _Potter's Greatest Hits_. Damn. Why is it that I have the good ideas but can't make money off of them? Definitely not fair.

The crowd finally woke up from their self-imposed stupor and started clapping. Then cheering. Then hollering when it sinks in that Voldermort and his demented goons are gone. Smiling, I take a deep bow towards the ground…and the cheering stops.

Instead of cobblestones, I'm staring at carpet. Red and gold, actually, with really ugly patterns. Suddenly, a woman's voice pops out of nowhere.

"Would you like some tea?"

[fin/ende]

_Next: Showdown, Part Two: J.K. Rowling's Revenge_

A/N:

(2) Classic Richard Dean Anderson line from _Stargate: SG-1. _Couldn't resist using it.

(3) Actual satellite, albeit a military one.

(4) There were actually seven Horcruxes: the ring, diary, cup, locket, diadem, Nagini, and Harry Potter. I threw the diary in with the ones the goblins destroyed. For the purposes of this story, Harry is in another universe and not on the same Earth, so Voldermort is mortal. Works, eh?

Please review and let me know what you think!


	5. Showdown, Part Two: JK Rowling

**Lost in Harry Potter  
****by 80sarcades**

* * *

Last chapter! Thank you for reading my story; reviews -- any reviews -- are appreciated. Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: Does anyone actually believe that I own Harry Potter?

_**

* * *

**__**Chapter 5: Showdown, Part Two: J.K. Rowling's Revenge**_

"Would you like some tea?"

I look up to see a blonde woman looking over at me, tea set at hand. I wouldn't say she needs plastic surgery, but she does score pretty low on my cute-o-meter. Still, I'll play along.

"Sure. Do you have some sugar and milk?"

"Of course." She prepared a cup and handed it to me. Warm tea really does wonders. She motioned me to a seat while I looked around the room. It screamed 'rich' and 'tasteless' at the same time.

So just where the hell am I? Fortunately, the blonde was reading my mind. Creepy.

"You may be wondering where you are," she said. "For starters, do you know who I am?"

I wisely refrained from asking her if she was Mrs. Cougar 2009 and decided to play it safe. "No. Should I?"

"You may have heard of me. My name is Joanne Murray," she explained. At my blank look, she added "J.K. Rowling."

"Oh, yeah. Ok. The _Harry Potter_ books," I said. Geez, this gets weirder and weirder. You'd think with all that cash she'd have better hair. Oh, well. I sipped my tea as she continued.

"I've brought you here because you've been mucking around in my books. Can't have that, can we?" Her voice took on a harder tone while she gave me a stare worthy of Minerva McGonagall. I ignored it.

Besides which, who uses 'mucking' in a sentence? You never hear anyone using it on this side of the pond. Unless they replace the 'm' with an 'f'.

"Well, look," I said. "I was just improving upon it. I mean, in the seventh book you have the kid traipse around England before he does in Voldermort with an Expelliarmus spell. My way is much better and much more satisfying, you know. And that thing with Ginny…"

While I talked, I saw her lips grow thinner and thinner until there was only white skin. Not a good sign, but my mouth ignores that too.

"…you really should have gotten Harry laid with Ginny by at least the seventh book, but no, he has to go out into the forest to die without getting lucky…"

"Enough!"

Ms. Rowling's voice was like a sharp snap, shutting me up instantly. She eyed me with a glare.

"Because you have interfered, you have caused me to lose millions since the last three books were never published. They are my books after all, and a children's book at that! By what right do you have to change it?" she angrily asked.

"Um…because it was there?" From the look in her eyes, I can tell that is not a good answer. Instead, I try a different tack. "Look, lady," I began slowly, "I didn't ask to be sent there, but I took care of things the RIGHT way. Besides which, don't you already have a ton of money? What more could you possibly want?"

"You stupid fool," she sneered. "I can draw out the story, giving hints that tantalize my readers and cause them to line up at midnight drooling to buy my books.(5) I can give interviews and savor the publishing rights. As for the money, I need more of it to finance my habit."

Strange, she doesn't look like a druggie. Or a nun. "Uh…your habit?" I warily asked.

"Of course. I require my bed sheets to be changed six times a day, with the finest silks.(6) Servants to cater to my every whim. And now…I'm going to have to fix it all, and take care of you," she ominously said. She reached inside a nearby drawer and pulled out a slender wooden wand before pointing it at me. Naturally, I said the first words that came to mind.

"Are you nuts?"

Ms. Rowling merely smiled and pointed the wand towards a nearby chair, levitating it before smashing it to bits with a Reducto curse. She then leveled the stick at me.

"Why, no, of course not," she said, smiling sweetly. Or evilly. Take your pick. I decided to take the high road and raised my hands, hoping that I looked at least a little repentant.

"Ok, I think I got the message. Don't mess around in your universe," I said in a small voice. Unfortunately, she didn't buy it.

"Of course. However, I think in your case I need a more…permanent…solution for you," she said way too calmly for my tastes.

"Ok, then send me home. I promise I'll never mess around again." Hopefully, I sound sincere enough/ This lady is crazy enough to whack me.

Ms. Rowling let a little high pitched cackle escape from her lips. For a moment, she reminded me of Umbridge.

"I don't think so," she finally said. The finality in her eyes convinced me.

"Listen, lady," I said, growing desperate. Just where is the door, anyway? "People will miss me. I have friends. I have a liquor store that I go to every morning!"(7)

She still looked unconvinced.

"Ok, so I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing…" I said in apology.

"And now I have to do mine," she interrupted, raising her wand; my heart froze. "Expello ut Abyssus."(8)

For a long minute, her face stretched down a dark tunnel before everything went black.

* * *

Next thing you know, I'm staring at a green cursor. A blinking green cursor, attached to an antique computer that was state of the art when Pac-Man was around. Looking up, I hear a soft 'tick' as a clock with white and black numbers reads 106:00.

Looking around, I see more junky equipment in a familiar room. A room I've seen before, although from the other side of the TV. And if I'm here, then I must be…

I ran a hand over my head, feeling only bare skin. Yup; I'm John Locke. Could be worse, though. At least I'm not Doc Shephard.

Well, this is just great. I'm lost in _Lost_ now, a fricking TV show! Why couldn't I have landed on _Baywatch_? At least the scenery there was much more interesting! At least I landed here before they blew the Hatch; I don't fancy living in the jungle, thank you very much. Suddenly, a new sound startled me.

"Are you going to talk to him, John?"

The voice from behind me comes from a Middle Eastern man. Sayid, I remember Cool guy, but a little vicious for my tastes. I got up from the chair and stretched while I thought of a plan. As usual, I played along and hoped for the best. What could go wrong?

"Yeah. Is he still…" I let the question hang while looking at the other man.

"Yes," the other man replied in a cold tone. With his attitude, he'd have a splendid career working for the IRS. I nod my head.

"Let's go," I said, waving my hand for him to go first. I followed him to the armory door. Oh yeah, I remember this episode; this was where Henry Gale…aka Benjamin Linus…was staying before being 'questioned' by Sayid. He opened the door and started to go inside before I stopped him.

"Let me have five minutes alone with him, ok?"

Sayid gave me a questioning look, but said nothing as I walked past him into the small room. He pushed the door shut and left us alone. Meanwhile, I looked into Ben's watery eyes. Dangerous eyes.

"So, what do you want now, John?" he asked me in a calm voice. "Come to ask me some more questions?" Guy looks like he always is in control. Forget that. I don't fancy spending the next few years here, so time to play bad cop.

I lean against the wall and relax for a moment. "Not really, Ben. All I want is some information."

Ben's eyes widened slightly in curiosity, but he said nothing. I continued.

"You may be the leader of the Others, living in your fancy compound on the other side of the island, but I really don't care about that. All I want to do is to get off this island," I said in a calm voice.

"And what makes you think I can do that, John?" Ben's voice turned a little darker while he tried to control the conversation. Screw that. I'm in charge here.

"Because I know you can," I stated flatly. "Plus, the quicker you can tell me how to get to the Looking Glass complex, the better."

"Looking Glass?" Ben asked, playing innocent. His face told another story. He'd be lousy at playing poker, you know. Too may tells.

"Yeah, the one that controls communications with the outside world. That little complex beneath the sea, you know. Ordinarily, I'd just take the sub and escape; but I don't think I can run it by myself." Not to mention your buddies would kill me before I got that far, but I didn't mention that as I continued.

"By the way, how's Richard Alpert doing? Guess he's running things in your absence, huh? Then again, he's probably been doing that for a long time. Really long," I emphasized the last word; seemed to hit home. The more he's off balance, the better.

When Ben finally answered, his voice was a bit shaky. "I don't think I can do what you want, John," he finally answered. "This island…" He stopped, looking really lost. Pardon the pun.

"Of course you can," I smiled evilly as I twisted the knife. "By the way, your old Dharma buddies are still in that pit, aren't they? You know, the ones you had gassed? Want to go see them?" I asked. For the first time, his face showed an emotion.

Fear.

In the end, I never had to lay a hand on him and I wouldn't have had the stomach to do so anyway. I escaped the island. Of course, there was that little incident where the island disappeared, but who cared? Would have happened eventually anyway. Meanwhile, I'm safe; I resolved never to be lost again.

At least, not until the producers of _Lost_ find me.

A/N:

(5) I was one of those suckers when the last book -- _Deathly Hallows_ -- came out. Before that, I did mail order.

(6) This was actually a requirement of Madam Chiang Kai-Shek when she visited the White House in 1943; she brought her own silk sheets from China and demanded that they be changed several times per day.

(7) Another RDA line, this one from the _Simpsons._ Did I mention that Richard Dean Anderson is cool?

(8) Latin for 'banish to hell' if I have the translation right.

Thank you for reading; reviews, of course, are appreciated!


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